C is for Cat Burglar
by DreamBrother
Summary: Summer Alphabet Challenge 2007. An uninvited guest pays a visit to the Eppes home while the brothers are there. Now COMPLETE! Hallelujah.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:**** C is for Cat Burglar**

**Author:**DreamBrother

**Summary:**(Summer Alphabet Challenge 2007) Title pretty much gives the gist of it.

**Disclaimer:**The show, and its' characters, are not mine. When it was developing, I was too busy trying to win the softball tournament. Tough times. We won, btw.

**Author's Note:**My brother's apartment got robbed a few days ago, while he was asleep in his bedroom. Very glad the robber didn't do anything to him and that my brother didn't interrupt the robbery. We might laugh now, but this is my vent for all that could have been. Not that I worried. But why not put the situation to some use and write a fic?

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_Cat Burglar: (__n) __A burglar who is especially skilled at stealthy or undetected entry of a premises._

"Well, that outing was completely pointless," grumbled Charlie as he unlocked the front door of his Craftsman home.

"Aw Chuck, don't be so harsh. The food might have been a bit burnt but are you saying you didn't enjoy your big brother's company?" Don admonished, stepping into the house behind his little brother and closing the door behind them.

"Don't 'Chuck' me Donald, but my argument is, what's the point of going out for dinner if the food is going to be burnt, when I could have easily enjoyed your company at home with some decent cooked food?" pointed out Charlie, shrugging out of his coat.

"And who exactly was going to do the cooking? Dad's out of town on a business trip and my culinary skills leave much to be desired. And it's not like they didn't replace the pizza after we tasted it," replied Don, following his brother in the motions of taking off his jacket and the accessories that came with being an FBI agent, only Charlie didn't have a handcuff pouch and gun to remove.

"And made us wait twenty more minutes for it! I was hungry!" whined Charlie, not realising how close his tone was bordering on childishness.

"Twenty minutes, big deal. Do your students know that their professor can be a cranky nutcase when he hasn't eaten?" grinned Don. It always intrigued him how his little brother could go for hours upon hours without eating if his mind was wrapped up in a math problem, but if he was a member of the conscious world and he hadn't eaten recently, God help the person who came in the way of him and his food. Their mother had always carried around a few granola bars in her purse just in case her youngest son drifted into the living world suddenly and was hungry.

"Nutcase? That's nice, bro, real nice. Well this 'nutcase' isn't going to take his brother's jibes anymore and is going to bed," and almost with a 'hurumph', Charlie turned on his heels and began to make his way upstairs.

"Aw, don't be mad. You must still be hungry, so let's make some popcorn and watch a movie, yeah?" offered Don, still with a smile on his lips. His brother was too easy a target sometimes.

Charlie stood and considered the offer. Truth was, he _was_ still a little hungry, and he _did_ want to spend more time with his brother. Don had been busy for the last week, handling case after case, and now that there was a lull, had come to see his brother for purely personal reasons, no work involved. The two brothers had gone for dinner as soon as Don had arrived and it had only lasted an hour. Charlie wasn't ready to call it a night yet, and eagerly (although he wasn't going to show it) complied. "Fine. But for your cracks, you make the popcorn, I choose the movie," and without waiting for an answer, moved towards the TV.

Shaking his head at his brother's pretend huffy attitude, Don decided to cut Charlie a little slack and moved towards the kitchen to get the popcorn popping.

Neither man, too busy in their interaction with the other, sensed the foreign presence in the house.

* * *

Felt the story needed to be broken here. Figuring out part II as you read...unless I've dozed off which is a distinct possibility. 

Let me know what you think of this tiny teaser. It was supposed to be a huge oneshot, but I feel like adding chapters :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:**** C is for Cat Burglar**** (part II)**

**Author:**DreamBrother

**Disclaimer:**See chapter 1. And don't sue me, it shan't be pretty. And The Pink Panther existed before I was even born, no credit for me there.

**Author's Note:**And so, it continues. As a tiny refresher course, in the series, The Pink Panther was the diamond, The Phantom always tried to steal it, Inspector Clouseau always tried to stop him. Tiny reference made to my 'R is for Relaxation' fic, but no worries. Thanks to all those who review, appreciated beyond belief.

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"The Pink Panther, huh? In the mood for some Inspector Clouseau? I'm not enough of an investigator for you?" inquired Don as he sat next to his brother on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn in hand, and saw his brother's choice of movie. It could have been worse; Charlie could have decided to tease his brother by making him watch a romantic comedy. At any rate, it wasn't the latest version with Steve Martin, and Don had actually liked the original series the first and only time he'd watched it. 

"Unlike you, Inspector Clouseau is funny," retorted Charlie, digging his hand into the popcorn bowl.

"Now that just hurts. Just to show you how much I have a sense of humour, I'm going to show Amita your nude baby pictures," stated Don.

Unfazed, Charlie replied, "Ok, if you do that, I'll email yours to the entire office."

Both brothers eyed each other for a few moments, daring the other to back down first. As one, they turned their heads back to the screen which had begun to play the world recognizable theme music of The Pink Panther and chorused, "Just shut up and watch the movie," a small smile lighting up each brother's face at the unexpected choreography. Soon, both were engrossed in the happenings of the movie, oblivious to their surroundings. Even Don, the FBI agent who rarely let his guard down, was lulled into a false sense of security that came from being surrounded by the walls of his childhood home.

Not unlike The Phantom in the movie the two brothers were watching, comfortable in each other's presence, the unwelcome visitor stealthily made his way downstairs, silent as a cat with an agenda. Any sounds that he might have made were drowned by the antics of the clumsy inspector. However, unlike the Phantom, he was not in a museum, aiming to steal a diamond, but, if he came across any, he wouldn't pass up the opportunity. He had broken into the house through the upstairs window and had calmly been leafing through the occupant's possessions when he had frozen at the sounds of a car arriving and parking in the driveway, followed by voices and the door opening and closing. He had seen the two men leave, had thought they'd be gone for more than an hour, but his assumptions were wrong. His mind had begun to process several scenarios when he heard the sounds of someone coming up the stairs, mulling through those that ended with the owner taking no notice of his departure, to those that resulted in the death or injury of the occupant. The owner unconsciously made up his mind for him by going down again and seemingly staying there.

However, he was not going to let the unexpected arrival deter him from his mission. There was hardly anything of value upstairs to take which meant a trip downstairs. He had wasted time looking around upstairs. It was clearly a bachelor pad, if the lack of feminine possessions meant anything, along with the fact that there wasn't a single piece of jewellery to be found anywhere. The room whose window he'd used as an entryway actually had the audacity of being cluttered with notebooks upon notebooks. There was not a single open space, except for the bed and the pathway between the door and bed, that wasn't a resting place for notebooks and junk, some boxes of chalk (who used chalk nowadays, anyway?) and some… toys, the type no kid would want to play with. Despite his grace, he was thankful he hadn't broken his neck entering the house through the window of this bedroom. Of the other two bedrooms, one looked as though it was barely used whilst the other was so clean that it must be used regularly.

No, the money waited downstairs, and two guys, big deal. That meant wallets. And if he was in the mood, he'd take one of the cars. Taking his handgun from the waistband of his pants, he made his way down the stairs.

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The story is dividing itself, I promise! I thought I'd get the majority done in this chapter, but my mind has other ideas.

Chapter 3 should be up soon. Soon will be even sooner if you review ;)

The nitty-gritty comes in 3(hopefully). Stay tuned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author:**DreamBrother

**Disclaimer:** I claim no ownership of anything except my lovely mp3 player and some CD's.

**Author's Note:**I fear I have gone over to the dark side. Cliff hangers, short chapters, what's to become of me? I even broke my 1000 words min. chapter rule, all for the sake of this story. Evilness is afoot. I thereby wish to offer my sincerest apologies and hope to make this chapter Tolstoy long (Just finished it, Tolstoy will have to wait, sorry). Oh, and Cato was Inspector Clouseau's servant who always attacked him (as per orders) at the most inopportune of moments.

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**C is for Cat Burglar (part III)**

The film, _A Shot In The Dark_, the second of the Pink Panther series and the one Charlie had chosen for the night, had almost reached the middle when Don suddenly shifted his attention away from the screen and looked to the left, towards the living room and the stairwell. Charlie was still engrossed in the movie, happily chewing away on the decreasing amount of popcorn in the bowl but quickly noticed his brother's distraction.

"Don? What's up? Movie not interesting anymore?" asked Charlie, concerned.

"Huh? What? No Charlie, movie's fine, I just thought I heard something…" replied Don, still looking for a sign that something was amiss.

Both brothers listened intently for a few seconds, blocking out the sounds of the film, when Don said, "Forget it. It's probably something that needs fixing but which the owner of the house has chosen to ignore for the time being,"

"Hey, leave my house-ownership skills out of this, paranoid brother of mine. You should be thankful I don't charge you rent or make you chip in for the groceries. Now be quiet and watch the movie," replied Charlie.

With one last look around, Don shook his head and dismissed the uneasy feeling he had gotten a few minutes ago, switching his attention back to the screen in front of him.

The burglar, who had pressed himself against the far wall when the second-last step emitted an irritating creak and evoked the attention of one of the men, eased himself away and quickly, but silently, moved into the foyer and lifted his gun in the direction of the two men.

"Don't do anything stupid and I see no reason why this can't have a happy ending for all 3 of us," stated the burglar. The words were barely out of his mouth when the man sitting closest to him, about 15 feet away, stood up quickly and turned towards him, something about his demeanour making the burglar grip his gun tighter and aim it better. Quick on the heels of his friend, the other man also jumped to his feet. However, the little extra width and height on the older man made it easy for him to block the curly haired man from the view of the thief.

"What do you want and who are you?" fired the older man, his hands lifted up slightly but not completely, attempting to look un-threatening but the burglar didn't miss how his right hand lingered at his hip for a moment and that the man seemed too comfortable with having a gun pointed at him for his liking.

"Well, in honour of the movie, you can call me Cato, I always liked that character, and what I am is a thief, simple as that," replied 'Cato', "Now if you don't mind, could you move to the side a bit, I can't see your friend, I don't want him doing something that will result in either of you getting shot."

"I'm not moving but he's not going to do anything," stated the man in front with conviction.

"Don-," began the hidden man but he was cut off:

"Shush, Charlie, let me handle this," 'Don' quickly interjected.

"If that's the way you want it, fine, but keep in mind I'm a quick shoot and my aim isn't bad at all," said Cato. He wasn't a fan of bloodshed but if it was needed to achieve his objective, he would do what had to be done. He'd killed before, he hadn't been caught, and he would do it again, if the situation required it. From the stairwell he had noticed that in the bowl on the table in the middle of the foyer, right behind him, contained a bunch of keys and a pair of wallets. Normally, he would have grabbed these last but his instincts told him to check the wallets first.

The two men watched him warily, the eldest, Don apparently, with a calm gaze while the younger, Charlie, peeked over his friend's/boyfriend's/brother's shoulders, standing on tip toes. With one hand still pointing the gun, the other dipped into the bowl and flipped open the first wallet he came across.

"Charles Edward Eppes, nice to meet you," greeted the thief, noticing how Don stiffened almost imperceptibly as he watched Cato put the wallet in his pocket and move to take the second wallet. A quick glance at the ID of the other man sent a bolt of fear through him and before he knew it, a soft '_phut_' was heard.

Both Cato and Don watched as a dark red stain began to grow on the left side of Don's shirt, below the ribcage, Charlie only noticing something was amiss when his brother took a small step backwards and his legs ceased to want to support him any longer.

Nobody paid attention to the smoke emanating from the silencer equipped gun held in Cato's outstretched hand, Don's FBI ID and badge displayed in the wallet in the thief's, and now potential murderer's, other hand.

* * *

Well, wouldn't you know it, I've shot Don again. I might make it a 'every 5th story' event. 

And it's a cliffhanger, I know,and the chapter is not that long, _I know_, but I promise to try and get the next one up as soon as possible. I've been reliable when it comes to updates haven't I? The story is simply dividing itself, it has a mind of it's own!!

So, anybody want to place bets on how long the thief continues to rummage around after shooting poor old Don? Winner gets a Flake..

Reviews make me very happy. I like waking up, after posting a chapter, to review alerts in my inbox. I dream about how many I'll find, haven't got the right number yet, the more reviews I get, the higher the chance of me getting it right :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Author:**DreamBrother

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Author's Note:**The idea of me knowing anything related to medicine is ludicrous. Forgive any inaccuracies that will probably exist. And thank God, I have no practical experience dealing with gun shot wounds. Slight bit of swearing, but nothing fancy. It's just a bit more than in any of my stories. No four-letter words or anything like that.

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**C is for Cat Burglar (Part IV)**

"Well that wasn't entirely unexpected," gritted out Don as Charlie slowly eased him onto the hardwood floor.

"And why is that?" asked Charlie, surprised at his somewhat calm tone of voice when his internal monologue consisted of a combination of expletives and expressions of disbelief and horror. One hand still on his brother's shoulder, he shoved the coffee table to his right further away and the sofa to his left further into the wall, to make space for his brother's body.

"Darn badge. It's as much a license to kill as a license for trouble," answered Don, trying to ignore the pain and to keep his brother calm at the same time. The thief could do with being ignored for now.

"I thought I was the James Bond of the family? And why didn't you move, if you knew what was coming?" queried Charlie, although he had a feeling what the answer might be.

"Then it would have been you in the line of fire, Chuck," stated Don, gritting his teeth together when his little brother pressed his hand over the wound in his side. Don had had a feeling the burglar might decide to shoot him. The fact that a thief wandered around with a silencer-equipped gun indicated that he meant business, and no-one expects to walk into the home of an FBI agent, who has the means and methods to foil his plans and possibly put him in jail for a long, long time. Of course, now that the burglar had decided to shoot, possibly kill a law enforcement officer, there wasn't an agency in L.A and beyond who wouldn't hunt the assailant down ruthlessly, although, they would probably have to wait in line behind Megan, David and Colby.

Not knowing how to give an appropriate reply, Charlie settled for making his brother comfortable, placing a cushion from the sofa under Don's head and putting pressure on the steadily leaking wound in Don's side. After doing this, Charlie looked up at the cause of all their problems and asked, eyes blazing "Why did you have to shoot him? He wasn't doing anything!" Charlie didn't bother waiting for the gunman's reply as he heard his brother say his name.

"What is it?" asked Charlie, not liking the lack of colour on his brother's face, and the worried look in his eyes.

"Don't antagonize him. Let him do what he wants, and then he'll leave," whispered Don. He really didn't care how long the burglar took, as long as he didn't mark his exit with shooting Charlie as well, to make a clean getaway.

In the meantime, Cato had recovered his composure and put his game face on, figuratively speaking, as he was wearing a ski mask. While Cato preferred clean, harmless robberies, the situation sometimes demanded a bit of action. He'd been doing this gig a long enough time to know he'd put himself in a bind. Shooting a federal agent meant the whole of the FBI would be out for his blood. In a weak moment, his instincts overrode his reasoning, and now he had to deal with the consequences, which meant taking what he could and getting out of the city, fast. He hadn't shot the agent in an immediately fatal region, so the danger of him dying in the next few minutes was low. The agent's brother would help him out though, in order to have him leave and get help as soon as he did.

"Look, if you and your brother want to live, the best thing would be to help me out. I can't have you calling 911 while I rummage around, so give me your cell-phones," ordered Cato.

To his credit, Charlie only glared at the robber for a second before doing what was wanted from him, carefully slipping Don's from its place on his brother's belt and taking his own from his pant pocket and sliding both across the wooden floors towards the robber, who bent down to pick them up.

"What else do you want?" asked Charlie. The sooner the burglar got what he wanted, the better. The use of the silencer meant none of the neighbours would have heard the gunshot and called for help. Hell, even Charlie had barely heard it, and even then, he hadn't recognized it for what it was.

"Now, you tell me what is of value and where it is, to save us both some time. The quicker I find what I want, the sooner I leave," reasoned Cato.

Charlie's razor sharp mind quickly accumulated the list and he said, "The TV, if you can pick it up, the DVD player, the XBOX in the cabinet next to it, my laptop is in the backpack by the door and the keys to my Prius are in the bowl on the table behind you, the one with the Pi keychain. The last set of burglars also took a vase and our blender, if you're interested," Charlie couldn't resist tagging on the last sentence, concern for his brother and the crappy night they were both having was making him cranky and irritable. The robber nodded his assent and moved towards the items that interested him.

Don had been watching his brother throughout the proceedings, keeping his eyes locked onto his face. A small glow of pride blossomed in his chest, as he saw the man Charlie had become, someone who could keep his head under extenuating circumstances, when 2 years ago, he would have retreated into his mind, in the refuge of his numbers and Don would have been screwed then. But the Charlie of today was doing all that was humanly possible to get his brother the help he needed, now who couldn't be proud of that?

Charlie concentrated again on his brother, now that the robber was busy elsewhere and not an immediate threat. The only thing they could do now was wait for him to leave; any elaborate escape plans weren't an option. He barely registered the fact that the burglar had first chosen to go into the kitchen, only realising so when a clean dish towel and a bottle of water landed on the table to his right. He looked up in surprise to find the thief standing a little behind him.

"Try to minimize the bleeding. I don't feel like turning into a cop killer tonight," said the burglar, as though it was advice he offered someone regularly and planned his labels accordingly: Burglar today, killer tomorrow, cop killer next week.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to shoot him," snapped Charlie, the unexpected kindness only doing little to pacify him. The sight of the small pool of blood under his brother's body was making him nervous and a dish towel wasn't what he wanted; a pair of paramedics and an ambulance would have been more like it.

"You might want to tread carefully kid, this gun holds more than one bullet," stated Cato, even as he realized that his words made the FBI agent lose what little colour that had remained on his face. Without waiting for a response from the younger brother, he made his way around to get the valuable possessions. He would pile it all quickly in the car and leave, without a second glance.

"Easy, Charlie, don't piss him off," cautioned Don, even as it was becoming harder by the second to concentrate. Talking to his brother would keep unconsciousness at bay, even if it took up whatever little energy he had. There was also the added bonus of Charlie not doing anything else to antagonize the burglar.

"Don't worry about me, Don, I'm too adorable for anybody to want to shoot," replied Charlie_. I can't believe I just said that_, thought Charlie.

"Uh huh, and he was just reducing competition for the ladies of L.A by shooting me, right?" retorted Don, appreciating the small bit of humour. He didn't want this to turn out to be an extremely traumatic event for Charlie, even if everything turned out alright. But before the comedy routine started, he needed to get something off his chest, "I'm sorry, buddy."

Surprised at the sudden change in topics, Charlie could only ask, "What for?"

"I should have realized sooner someone had broken into the house. Shouldn't have taken off my gun, should've have stopped him," confessed Don, the long sentence robbing him of his breath for a second.

For a few seconds, Charlie could only blink at this misplaced guilt and unnecessary apology. Slowly, he said, "Don, I know you're a great agent and all, but bro, you are not Spiderman, equipped with a spidey-sense. There was no way you could have known, I think he broke in from upstairs while we were out. And also, just look at him. He barely makes a sound as he moves. He'd be great in the CIA… So would you please stop feeling guilty over this?"

Finding the freely-given forgiveness to his unwanted apology in his brother's honest eyes, Don decided to change the topic, "Whatever you say, Chuck. And your prophetic choice of movies is starting to scare me, by the way."

"Useless choice, it didn't give us any warning. And I wouldn't mind it if he takes the whole DVD collection of the films, don't think I ever want to watch that series again," replied Charlie, even as he looked for an unused part of the towel to press against his brother's wound.

"You've got a point. But look at the bright side; at least we don't have carpet. Blood stains would never come off of that," Don's gallows humour rearing its head as he began to feel increasingly light headed from the blood loss. 'Cato' really needed to get a move on.

* * *

Hope the humour wasn't inappropriate. My brother stole the last Flake, maybe that's why this chapter is longer than the others. But I miss my Flakes, the Cadbury hot chocolate was yucky and it made me sleepy (and who wants a sleepy writer, anyhow?) 

So, did this chapter live up to expectations? What happens next? Have to figure that out, need my Flake, but reviews would be good in any case ;) Oh, and Ocean's 13 is really nice, btw.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author: **DreamBrother

**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs, nor the Pink Panther, are mine. Don't sue.

**Author's Note: **No Flake, but Buttons. Let's see how this one turns out. There was thunder and lightning and lots of rain today, so I'm in the mood for angst. Hope this isn't too much like Sensory Overload and Deprivation. Angst also a result of too much listening to Brother by Alice in Chains, but that song is awesome, angst aside. Btw, Dreyfus was Clouseau's boss who was slowly driven crazy by Clouseau over the course of the series. Can you blame him?

* * *

**C is for Cat Burglar (Part V)**

Cato moved expertly around the house. He didn't have to worry about any problems from the Eppes; one was too busy bleeding, the other one too busy trying to stop the bleeding, match made in heaven. However, Cato knew a thing or two about gunshot wounds, and right now, he knew he had to be fast or else the cops wouldn't be searching for a robber in the morning, but a murderer. An ambulance would take time coming, this was LA after all, and the agent looked like he needed all the help that he could get. Already a formidable pool of blood had formed under the agent's body; despite the curly headed brothers' best efforts. He had decided to place all that he was going to take by the door, so he could then quickly load the car and get out of Pasadena, and maybe L.A.

He moved towards the TV, noticing that the younger brother was watching him carefully, nervousness and anxiety etched onto his features, as well as managing to maintain a glare at all times, directed towards him. You had to give the kid props for conveying so much, so silently. He spared a moments notice towards the movie that had been playing, unconcerned with what was happening to some real life characters. He chuckled softly at the bit of dialogue that he caught:

_Clouseau__: There is something... personal... in this? _

_Dreyfus__: Yes, deeply personal. I hate you! Every little bit of you! Now get out! _

_Clouseau__: You want me to leave? _

He might not be the Clouseau of this tale, but his exit was deeply desired, of that he was certain. But this was nothing personal; it was just plain old bad luck for the Eppes boys tonight. If they had stayed out a bit longer, none of this would have happened. And he had the bad luck of choosing a house habited by a FBI agent, a bachelor pad no less, with no jewelry in sight.

"You want me to take the movie out of the DVD player? It's the least I can do," offered Cato cheekily. Shooting people always made him tense, and he hadn't shot an average Joe, and he handled tension with the grace of a ticked off grandmother i.e. not well.

Ah, there was that glare again. He was glad he had the gun in his hands and the Fed's gun wasn't nearby. Seeing as he wasn't about to be dignified with a reply, he moved on, quickly disconnecting the wires and placing all the machinery near the door, although the plasma TV required a bit of effort.

Charlie had turned his attention back to his brother after the thief's snark. First, it's his brother commenting on the benefit of bleeding on a wooden floor over a carpeted one, and now the thief decides to become a comedian. Today was not his day.

However, any thoughts regarding how his day was going were dismissed at his brother's deteriorating condition. If he thought Don was pale before, he now gave new meaning to the term 'translucent'. Where as before Don's eyes had been alert, albeit clouded with pain and worry, they were now less focused than before. His brother was drifting. Time for some stimulating conversation.

Charlie gently prodded his brother in the shoulder and chided, "Hey, no sleeping during our feature presentation. What kind of guest are you?"

"Not sleeping, bro, you're kinda pressing a bit hard into my side for me to sleep," Don paused to take a deep breath before continuing, "And when did I become a guest? An hour ago, you wanted to charge me rent."

"A lot can change in an hour," replied Charlie, his fear and concern telegraphed by his voice but before his brother could say anything he added, "but it looks like our dear cat burglar is about to leave soon. There's not much else he can take unless he's in the mood to auction off my math textbooks and Dad's old blueprints."

"Dad… any chance we can delay his coming home by a couple more days? You know, until Megan and everyone can track this guy down and get the house normal looking again," wondered Don, deliberately not mentioning himself in any future plans, at the moment, he could make no promises.

"I'm pretty sure we can handle the house make-over but I think Dad will notice that one son is spending a lot of time at a hospital visiting his other son who is a patient with a gun shot wound to the side," retorted Charlie. To him, the thought of Don being anywhere other than in the hospital in the coming days was not a thought he was willing to entertain.

"Appendix?" suggested Don, ever hopeful. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain to his father that despite having a son in law enforcement, he had been robbed during his absence and his sons threatened while aforementioned FBI son did nothing except discolor the floor.

Before Charlie could reply, they were interrupted by Cato, who had managed to put his newly acquired possessions in his newly acquired Toyota Prius without the brothers noticing.

"Well, hate to steal and run but you need to call for an ambulance more than I need to stay and chat. It was a pleasure doing business with you boys," and with that departing statement, he slid the cordless phone across the floor towards Charlie, much like Charlie had slid their cell-phones towards him a while ago, and with a mock salute and whistling the Pink Panther tune, Cato left.

"Funny guy," commented Don, eyes sliding shut as the adrenaline that had kept him awake for this long, for fear of what might happen to Charlie while he was unconscious, drained from his body.

Charlie was too busy dialing 911 to notice immediately his brother's sudden desire to 'rest his eyes' and it was only after the emergency responder assured him that an ambulance would be there within ten minutes did he notice his brother's attempted sojourn into la-la land.

Shaking a hand that was way too cool for his liking, Charlie said, "Hey, no dropping off before the final act. A big tough FBI agent like you can't last through an entire movie?"

Without opening his eyes, Don stated "Cato left with Clouseau, movie's over,"

"True, but I'm still around. And how's this for incentive: stay awake until the doctors say you can sleep and I won't tell everyone at the FBI office about that time in junior high that you would love to forget,"

"M'tired Chuck," mumbled Don, "let me sleep."

"Well I'm still hungry, but you don't see me acting like a 'cranky nutcase', do you? Until I eat, you don't sleep," bargained Charlie. A small part of his brain wondered whether he was going through the five stages of grief, having fast-forwarded past denial, still lingering heavily on anger towards the thief but for the moment concentrating on bargaining with his brother. Two more to go, thought Charlie, before crushing that thought and locking it away for the time being.

However long the paramedics took, it still felt like an eternity to Charlie, as he stayed next to his brother, feeling helpless as he saw his brother slip deeper and deeper into shock, his pulse becoming weaker and faster by the minute, and his breaths coming faster but shallower. The paramedics couldn't come soon enough; the brothers had left the restaurant too soon. The numbers would have told Charlie that the chances of another break-in, after the one that had happened about a month ago, would be next to nothing. Of all the things his numbers had predicted, they couldn't have predicted this.

* * *

So, what's the verdict? Should I revert back to Flakes or are the Buttons suiting you fine? I don't think I've ever written a chapter so sleepily before. Normal people would have coffee, I have chocolates. Tsk tsk. Not completely satisfied with this chapter, but had to post and be done with it. I'm not a patient person. 

Hopefully, Chap VI will rock your world (but don't bet any Buttons on it). Reviews would be nice. I'm off to la-la land.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author: **DreamBrother

**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs, nor the Pink Panther, are mine. Don't sue.

**Author's Note: **Time to wind things down, yeah?

* * *

**C is for Cat Burglar (Part V****I)**

Charlie sat in the waiting room, arms crossed, head leaning back against the wall, eyes fixed on a spot diagonally opposite on the ceiling above. No emotions could be gleaned from his body language although any on-looker would be certain that it would take more than a mention of the man's name to capture his attention.

Charlie had accompanied the paramedics to the hospital, no-one questioning his desire to be with his brother until the doctors got their hands on him, Pasadena PD staying behind to investigate and process the 'scene', his living room. Once Don had been wheeled away where he couldn't follow, Charlie made his way to the nurses' station and asked to use the telephone, considering the fact his cell-phone was with the man whose actions necessitated his being in a hospital waiting room in the first place. His ability to remember numbers came in handy as he was able to recall Megan's number without any difficulty. Considering it was late at night and Megan would probably be enjoying a break from the multitude of cases they had had to investigate constantly for the past week, just like his brother had been before they had been interrupted, Charlie wasn't surprised that it took longer than a ring or two for Megan to answer, and that to with caution, seeing as it was an unknown number.

"Megan? It's Charlie,"

"Charlie? What's up? Where are you calling from? Everything alright?" asked Megan one after another, concern lacing her voice.

"I'm calling from the hospital. Don was shot-" began Charlie but was cut off.

"Hospital? Don? Shot? Charlie, what the hell happened?" fired Megan, fear making her jump the gun, seeing as Charlie was going to explain in the first place, before she had interrupted him.

"We were at home; we didn't notice a burglar had broken in. He shot Don before we could do anything," elaborated Charlie, his voice not betraying any of his inner turmoil and anxiety.

"Ok. Ok. The LAPD must already be there, you called 911. How's Don? What have the doctors said?" asked Megan, calmly, the FBI agent in her taking over. Faintly, Charlie could hear the rustle of cloth from the other end.

"Doctors haven't said anything but I've been told he's been taken into surgery," stated Charlie.

"Ok. He'll be fine, Charlie, don't worry. This is Don we're talking about. Listen, I need to call Colby and David in this, Don would have my head if we didn't immediately work to catch the guy. Can you tell me what stuff he took?" asked Megan.

"He took a lot of traceable stuff, pretty stupid for him, considering he looked experienced and smart. He took my car, our cell-phones, my laptop and the DVD player etc. Laptop and cell-phones have GPS so…" Charlie left the sentence unfinished. After all, he was talking to a person who had spent a lot of her adult life tracking down criminals.

"That's great, we'll have the SOB in custody before he even knows what hit him," stated Megan, the opening and closing of a door in the background. "Look, Charlie, I'll be at the hospital soon, ok, just hang tight. And don't worry, Don will be fine, he's a tough cookie,"

"Yeah. I know. Anyway, I better go sit, the nurses will need the phone back," said Charlie wearily, as he thought of the hours of waiting that were in his near future.

After hanging up, he made his way to the OR waiting room, and he was sitting there, head leaned back, arms crossed, when Larry found him half-an-hour later and put a hand on his shoulder, startling Charlie.

"Charles? Megan called. Any word on Don?" asked Larry in concern.

"Larry. Hey. No, nothing yet. But it hasn't been that long," said Charlie.

"That's good. Are you alright? Have you called Alan?" inquired Larry, giving his friend the once over and noticing flecks of a dark substance in patches on the knees of his pants and near the sleeve of his shirt.

"I'm fine, totally fine. And Dad's out of town. I'll call him once the doctors tell me more. Why should he have to worry more than necessary?" reasoned Charlie, smirking as he remembered his brother attempting to come up with a way to keep this from their father, even as he lay bleeding. Appendix, Don said. Yeah, right.

"If that's what you want, Charlie, we'll wait," and with that both men turned their attention away from each other and sat, shoulder to shoulder, until some hours later, a man in green scrubs approached Charlie, who quickly stood up.

"Hi. You're Don Eppes brother?" and after Charlie nodded, he continued, "I'm Dr. Keats, I operated on your brother. He made it through surgery, he's being settled into a room right now, and a nurse will take you there soon. We removed the bullet, repaired the damage the best we could, his blood volume was a little low for my liking, so we have him on transfusion. Barring any complications, he should be fine," finished Dr. Keats with a smile, watching the tension pour from his patient's brother and see the relief in his face increase with every word he said. Man, he loved being the bearer of good news.

IFCHRISCORNELLISGODJEFFBUCKLEYISJESUS

Don woke to the absence of pain, noticing immediately that he was lying on something definitely more comfortable than the wooden floor he last remembered lying on.

_Hey, Charlie got carpet_, thought Don at first but then after hearing the recognizable beeps of a heart monitor, thought _no you idiot, it's a bed, and you're in __a __hospital._

Cracking his eyes open, he stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, waiting for the fuzziness to clear before turning his head to survey his surroundings. It was like every other hospital room except his one had a curly headed genius playing solitaire with a deck of cards in the cramped space of an open magazine atop his lap, sitting to the right.

The sight in itself amused Don for a few seconds, as he simply watched his brother pick up and turn over a card from the main deck and look where to place it. However, noticing his brother was still dressed in the same clothes as the last time he saw him, Don attempted to make himself known.

"Chuck playing solitaire? How very matronly," commented Don, the soreness of his throat limiting the sarcasm in his tone.

Charlie's head jerked up and a smile overtook his features, "Don! You're awake!"

"No, genius, you're asleep and this is a very boring, although vivid, dream," said Don dryly (literally and metaphorically).

"A simple 'duh' would have sufficed, you know," commented Charlie, noticing the rasp in his brother's voice. He flipped the magazine shut, unconcerned with the cards stuck between its fold, quickly stood up and moved to pour his brother a cup of water and helping him drink it. When Don was done, he asked, "How you feeling, bro? Should I call a nurse?"

"I'm feeling fine, don't worry about me, how are you doing?" asked Don. It was true; whatever medication he was on, it didn't leaving him feeling much of anything. His brother, however, made him feel worried.

"I'm fine, I'm not the one who got shot," stated Charlie, dragging his chair closer to the bed and sitting down, not taking his eyes off his brother.

"Alright. What time is it?" asked Don. He'd observe first, and then interrogate his brother about how he truly was. And if the happy drugs made him incapable of that, he'd get Megan on it.

Charlie grinned at his brother's perpetual need to know what the time was, he made a mental note to ask his brother later why he kept on checking his watch all the time, "It's noon. You got out of surgery around 4 am and you've sleeping since,"

"It's noon? Shouldn't you be at CalSci, don't you have class?"

"Shouldn't you be at the office? You're here so I'm here," shot back Charlie.

"Seriously Charlie, have you been here all night? Have you even slept?" asked Don, his own eyes feeling heavy as he fought his body's desire to sleep, needing to know the answer even though his brother's clothes and unshaved face spoke volumes.

"Yes to both. Unlike you, I'm young and my body does not hate me if I fall asleep in chairs. The house is still taped off so Dad went to your apartment to snooze and Larry and Amita are covering my lectures for the time being. Now that you know, go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up,"

"You called Dad? I guess with the house cordoned off I can't get away with blaming my appendix?" sighed Don, taking his brother's advice and letting himself drift off to sleep.

"You could try if you wanted to, although Dad's reaction might not be pretty," offered Charlie, but Don was already asleep.

HAVEABREAKHAVEAKITKAT

"Hey Chuck, are you sure you didn't donate some of your blood for me?" asked Don, two days after, still in hospital but not thinking of ways to break free. Eating the food in front of him would have helped, but there was a limit to what he was willing to do, and eating the goo in front of him was not an option.

Charlie looked up from the paper he was planning his next lecture on, and asked, confused, "Yes. I'm pretty sure I would have noticed them jabbing a needle into me. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that I'm really craving some lemon meringue pie right now and you're the only person I know who loves it as much as you do," said Don, shooting the 'food' in front of him another glare.

"I'll see if I can smuggle some in later on but for now, be a good little boy and finish your lunch," said Charlie, bending his head to hide his smirk. He had seen what was on the tray and he didn't find his brother's cravings all that surprising, considering.

"This 'good little boy' wants to kick your ass," grumbled Don but picked up the spoon and ate as much as he could manage, resorting to speed to prevent him from actually tasting what he was eating.

Don had just begun to plot ways of messing with his brother who was ignoring him for his lecture notes when he was interrupted by some visitors.

"Hey Boss-man, miss us?" asked Colby as soon as he walked into the room, Megan and David behind him.

"If you brought coffee and some decent food, then yes I did," countered Don.

"No contraband for you, we're good little Feds we'll have you know. Thought we'd see how you were doing, now that we've wrapped up all the paperwork on the case and all," replied David, as he leaned against the wall, Colby and Megan taking the remaining sitting spaces.

"Seriously, you guys really know how to pick them. When we hauled him in, the only indication of him moving was the handcuffs, the guy makes no sound when he moves!" said Megan, admiringly, "The CIA should have recruited him. He would have been great for stealth attacks and all."

"Exactly what I thought," grinned Don, "So, what's his deal?"

"Pretty simple. John Miller, age 32, suspect in two murders, never convicted, served some time for assault. Simple catch, though. GPS on your phone, as well as Charlie's laptop, led us straight to him, he was trying to leave the city," stated David.

"I don't know about you guys but he seemed pretty clumsy to me. He kept on walking into walls and tables and chairs and all on the way to interrogation. It must be a nightly thing, his grace," said Colby, failing to mention that he had ''accidentally'' led Miller into some walls and tables. "It was embarrassing; really, you'd think a cat burglar would know how to avoid them."

"Maybe you're right," said Don, reading between the lines and smiling as he met his younger agent's eyes. _That's__ improvement_, Don thought, _a year earlier he probably would have straight out punched the guy and then we'd have to deal with a__n__official __reprimand._

Shaking her head, Megan added in a serious tone, "By the way, the house is all good now, the stolen goods are back and the evidence has been cleared, no traces left of Miller's little visit," deliberately avoiding mentioning that the 'evidence' consisted of a nice sized blood stain on the floor in the living room.

"Yeah, I can tell, Charlie's looking a lot less sore and his bones aren't cracking as much," grinned Don.

"That's gratitude for you," grumbled Charlie from his position, not bothering to lift his head from his notes.

Smiling at the sight of their boss teasing his little brother, the team stayed for a little while longer before taking their leave.

"I'll show you gratitude," began Don innocently, "I'll get you some lemon meringue pie. Go fetch, bro, and bring some back for me."

* * *

Phew, that's a long one. An epilogue to go and then we are done with this. A whole week of night's writing one story. I'm proud of my consistency :) 

I named the doc after one of my fav. poets, John Keats. Cato is named Miller because 'Miller' sounds a bit evil (blame it on Supernatural). If your name is Miller, oops :D. And I couldn't resist the breaks. I got tired of putting 'x-x-x-x-x-' as in previous fics.

Writing this took time. But what was fun was getting reviews periodically from **Patty** as I was writing (Hi there! You're here, finally :D)

Thanks to all those who reviewed the previous chapters. They make me write when I feel like procrastinating. Now, review this one. G'night. Also, which film would you consider an opposite of The Pink Panther?


	7. Epilogue

**Author: **DreamBrother

**Disclaimer:** Numb3rs and whatever else you recognize isn't mine. Dear old Cato is, though.

**Author's Note: **Friends, Romans, Countrymen… ok Friends; we have reached the end of the movie. Credit goes to **Jels** over at FanRush for having Cato in this chapter (Thanks! It helped me make this chapter smoother). A comment from her made me realize I need to give my beloved evil darling a proper send-off. Like my English teacher said, back in 6th grade, we don't need to give our evil characters scars and greasy hair and lewd smiles to make them evil, some of the most evil people are charmers. And it's all about perspective. I think in a 007 movie, it was said, "One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter" and I like this one line from a book, "I can show you so many shades of grey about this whole affair to make your head spin."

Reference made to Season 2 eps _In Plain Sight_ and _Mind Games_. Oh, and there's a quote from Season 1's _Counterfeit Reality_. Can you guess which?

* * *

**C is for Cat Burglar**

**(Epilogue)**

Charlie, for all his vast experience, wasn't very well acquainted with courts, despite having a lawyer for a mother. But today, he was going above and beyond the normal courthouse experience. It was an hour before the sentencing of John Miller, better known as 'Cato'. Charlie was not going to stay for the proceedings but he had a little mission to accomplish before Cato was carted off to the slammer. Nodding to the guard, he walked past the three empty cells until he stood in front of the occupied one at the end of the row, seeing the man unmasked for the first time.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Mr. Eppes himself. How's your brother doing?" inquired Cato, saving Charlie the need to exchange pleasantries. Are you even supposed to say Hello to the man who shot your brother?

"He's fine, no thanks to you," replied Charlie.

"Don't say that. I could have shot both of you before I left, made a clean getaway. Hell, I'm a good shot, I could have killed your brother instantly. Count your blessings," advised Cato. "So, what are you doing here? I would've thought you'd be watching the rest of the Pink Panther series with your brother at home, I hear the new one isn't half-bad," Cato stood up and walked towards Charlie, separated only by metal bars, looking immaculate in a suit. Dressed as he was, without a ski mask and gloves, you wouldn't have thought him to be a criminal by looking at him. But then again, that probably was the mark of a successful criminal. "Or are you here to make sure I get locked away for a long, long time?"

"I'm not staying for the sentencing. Don's got plenty of friends in the DA's office, so I'm not worried. I'm here because there were some things that were bothering me and you're the one who can address them," stated Charlie matter-of-factly.

"Is that so?" asked Cato, curiosity lighting up his eyes, "Well, I am at your service," sweeping his arms and adding a bow for effect.

Ignoring the thief's dramatic, Charlie got to the heart of the matter, "Why didn't you shoot us both before you left? We wouldn't have been found till morning, at best, giving you plenty of time to disappear. You've said it yourself, you've killed before, why not us? In fact, you even helped me keep my brother alive until the paramedics could come."

"What can I say? Peter Sellers made me soft," smirked the thief.

"Don't be an ass. Answer me," demanded Charlie. This man, much like the child paedophile Derek Lamberg had done, ticked Charlie off and made him act a bit out of character. Robbing his house was one thing, but shooting his brother was a whole new territory.

Cato stared at Charlie for a few seconds, recognizing the man who had glared at him and prodded him at a time when Cato held a gun in his hands and had shown he was ready to use it.

"What do you want me to say? My not shooting you was a subconscious desire to quit my evil ways, taking the laptops and cell-phones so that I could easily be caught and hence, pay for my crimes? Send your little profiler friend and we can have a talk. But keep the wrestler away from me, the man is clumsy and his bald friend was getting ideas watching him. The Grinch's heart increased in size that night, the tin-man was granted one by the Green Wizard of Oz etc, etc, etc. Satisfied?"

Charlie simply said nothing, choosing to instead keep on staring at the man. It was a trick he had learnt off Don and his team, after hanging around them so much. And like a charm, it worked.

"Fine. I saw a picture of you two with your dad. I've seen my dad lose a son, what it did to him, I wasn't in the mood to do that to some other father that night," confessed Cato, moving to the opposite wall and leaning against it, putting distance between him and Charlie. "How does that grab you?"

Before Charlie could respond, he was interrupted by the guard coming to him and saying, "Sir, it's almost time for the sentencing. You need to leave." Charlie nodded and after one last look at the man who had almost made one of his nightmares a reality, he turned on his heels and began to walk away. Before he reached the door, however, Charlie stopped in his tracks at the sound of someone whistling the Pink Panther theme from behind him. Shaking his head, Charlie thought, _p__ompous ass_, and left the building.

HALFOFBADCOMPANYISFREE

"I don't think I want to even see another lemon meringue pie for the rest of my life," said Don, warily eyeing said dessert, kindly placed in front of him on the dinner table.

"Come on bro, I'm only giving you what you want, and if I remember correctly, this is what you were craving," chided Charlie.

"Yeah, well, now I crave a beer, go get me that," replied Don, pushing the dessert towards his brother who happily welcomed it with open arms and a ready fork.

"No beer, Donnie, stick with the pie," commented Alan, "Now I'm going to do the washing up and then call it a night. Don't you and your brother get into trouble." While it had been a nasty shock, the phone call from Charlie from the hospital and his tale about all that had happened, Alan was slowly but surely putting it behind him. It had helped that he hadn't seen the house as anything other than spic and span, having stayed at Don's apartment until Megan gave him the green light. If it wasn't for Don being in hospital, Alan wouldn't have thought anything unpleasant had occurred. It amused Alan to think Don had been plotting to blame his hospital stay on his appendix. It might have worked had it not been for the fact that either son was incapable of lying to their father and the blood transfusions that Don had received. He had only arrived in the final act; it was up to Don and Charlie to help each other work through the preceding acts.

Don and Charlie engaged in small talk as they sat at the dinner table, Charlie making his way through a slice of the pie, their father in the kitchen. Soon after Alan had gone upstairs, Charlie pushed aside his empty plate, stood up and asked his brother, "So, what do you want to do? Are you tired?"

"Nah, the night is young, help me up, you want to watch a movie?" asked Don cautiously, lifting his hand so his brother could help him get up, the stitches in his side making it an awkward task to accomplish with much pain without any help.

To Charlie's credit, only a slight frown crossed his features and it was gone in the blink of an eye. He helped his brother up and then replied, "Sure. You pick the movie while I get the popcorn."

When Charlie returned with a bowl of popcorn, he found his brother sitting on one side of the sofa, the cover of a DVD in his hands, reading the back. Sitting down next to him, Charlie asked, "So which baseball movie are we watching this time?"

Don looked up and said, "I was thinking we finish what we started," and help up the cover of _A Shot In The Dark_, the Pink Panther movie that had been very rudely interrupted by Cato.

"Um, how about we pick another one? I've kinda gotten enough Pink Panther to last me for the next couple of decades," began Charlie delicately, moving past the lump in his throat.

"Charlie," said Don

"Don," said Charlie right back, both not taking their eyes off each other, waiting for the other to break first.

"Why did you go visit Miller today?" asked Don, and any hint of pride Charlie might have felt for out-staring his brother vanished at the question.

"What makes you think I went to see him?" asked Charlie, delaying the inevitable.

"I'm psychic and also, the animal kingdom came to tell me in the form of birds and insects," said Don dryly. "I'm Dr. Dolittle and Samuel Kraft all wrapped in one. Answer the question."

"I didn't understand why he acted the way he did, he pretty much let himself get caught. I needed to know why," said Charlie simply.

"Do you know now?" asked Don.

"I'm not entirely sure," mused Charlie, thinking back to all that the thief had said.

Don looked at Charlie for a few more seconds, and then said, "Alright," letting it go. However, he still fiddled with the DVD case in his hands. Charlie knew something was bothering his brother but rushing him had never worked in the past:

_"What's bothering you?"_

_"Nothing's bothering me, Charlie,"_

_"Something seems to be bothering you,"_

_"Well, nothing's bothering me."_

For the second time that day, Charlie's patience paid off when Don started speaking.

"You know, Miller could have shot you before he left and there would have been nothing I would have been able to do about it," Don commented, keeping his eyes fixed on the object in his hands.

At Don's words, Charlie sighed and asked, "So, that's what has been bothering you lately? That you weren't able to protect me? Don, what do you think you were doing before you got shot? I had to stand on my toes to actually see the guy and you wouldn't move even though the man with the shiny gun asked you to. Stop feeling guilty about this," Knowing Don probably wanted a way out of the conversation, he added "You're guilty of putting itching power in my clothes when I was 12, yes, but not this," finished Charlie with conviction.

Don smirked at the memory, "Yeah, well, serves you right. I had told you to stay out of my room,"

Both brothers sat in silence for a while, Don clearly mulling things over. And then, lifting his head and poking the his brother in the chest with the DVD case, he said

"Hurry up and get it started, would you? I want to see how the movie ends."

**Khatum (The End)**

**Roll Credits**

* * *

Well, there you have it. 7 nights, 7 chapters. Now I can go crazy with my D, and considering the title I've decided on, many others will be thinking me crazy too. 

Thanks to all those who review, you are amazing. Hope you liked the end, I wanted it to come full circle.

FanRush is acting wonky right now, so I guess I'll be posting this over there when the internet deities allow me.

Cato, I've gotten fond off. In my head, he's a bit differet, but I had to mess him up a bit for the sake of the story, had to make him get caught easily etc etc. If I were him I would have shot them both and ran (What, if I'm a killer, no curly haired geniuses and hot FBI agents would have made me pick them over jail). Cato, you are now laid to rest.

Had fun this week. See you around :)


End file.
